


creation's first little

by fiction_fan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Play, Bed-Wetting, Caregiver!Crowley, Diapers, Fluff, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Little!Aziraphale, Littles Are Known, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Non-Sexual Age Play, Omorashi, Wetting, more characters and such to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-01-05 19:53:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiction_fan/pseuds/fiction_fan
Summary: Angels aren’t supposed to be Littles. Demons aren’t supposed to be Caretakers. But, Aziraphale and Crowley were always a little different, weren’t they?





	1. Aziraphale and the No-Good-Very-Bad-Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! This is my first fanfiction since... 2011? I think? Back when fanfiction.net was the most popular site for stuff. I've wanted to write something for this fandom for a while now, and I've finally gotten around to it, thanks to some awesome inspiration!
> 
> Thank you to all of the GO writers who haeve placed our characters in this Little/Caregiver/Baseline world. Especially DamagedDolly with their work, "Anthony J. Crowley and the Green Eyed Monster."
> 
> Anyway, here we go! Enjoy!

In the beginning, there was light. And soon after that, there was life.

God was very particular about how things turned out; She knew that her creations would not always understand, but their purpose wasn’t to understand. Their purpose was to do. To live as She created them to.

This applied to humans, but also angels. Humans lived to explore the wonders of the world. Angels lived to protect the world and the humans who inhabit it. And the silly humans, who always fought to understand Her and Her ways, created words to try and define what was around them. Sun, moon, earth, grass, but also Caregiver, Little, and Baseline.

So, in human terms, the first creations were Caregivers. Angels were made to take care of others, inside and out. When those chosen angels fell, they were also creating; they brought the first Baselines into existence when their hearts began to burn from the inside out.

One would then assume that the first Little was a human. Their assumption would be incorrect. For, you see, God created humans in Her image, and just like them, She too had a Sense of Humor.

At least, that’s what Aziraphale thought.

***

_You can do this. You got this, Aziraphale._

Peering through the stacks of books was a pair of striking blue eyes, belonging to one of Heaven’s fiercest warriors, the original Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, and Soho’s crankiest bookseller. Aziraphale normally didn’t mind shooing hordes of customers out the door. But not today.

Today, Aziraphale was feeling quite Little. Normally, this didn’t happen. Normally, Aziraphale followed the same routine every morning: head into the kitchen at dawn after a night spent under his booklight, or, more rarely, a night of sleeping. Water in the kettle, kettle on the stove, bread in the toaster, eggs cracked into a bowl, eggs scrambled, eggs on plate, toast placed next to them (almost always burnt, but that’s how the angel likes it), hear the whistle of the kettle, pour a cup of tea, and as it steeped, get out his suppressants. Aziraphale kept them hidden a sugar bowl in a cookie jar stuffed behind a mound of pots and pans in the cabinet underneath his sink as a precaution. By the time he’s gotten up and off the floor, the tea has steeped, and he can take his pills, swallowing them down with his second sip of tea (otherwise his first would be ruined, and _oh_ he did not like the idea of _that_).

But normal wasn’t something Aziraphale had felt in several weeks. After successfully stopping the Apocalypse, fooling Heaven and Hell with a simple body switch, and categorizing the new books that have ended up on his shelves after Adam restored the bookstore, Aziraphale had gotten off-track. It wasn’t until he woke up in his bed well past sunrise with a thumb in his mouth and an absurdly warm and wet bed, that he realized that the last time he had taken his suppressants was_ twenty-three days ago._

Aziraphale had found one pill left in the sugar bowl. Only one. He swallowed it with no tea, no eggs, no toast. No normalcy at all.

To try and bring _some_ sort of order to his life, Aziraphale opened the shop, deciding that he’d keep it open for a few hours while he waited for one of his fellow “book” seller friends to answer his slightly desperate voice messages. It was raining horribly outside anyway, and nobody came in when it was like this.

Or, _almost_ never.

Now Aziraphale was hiding behind the eighteenth-century poetry, glaring daggers at the petit woman running her long nails past the spines of his first editions. If he found a scratch on any of them, he would—he would—

Aziraphale sighed. He wouldn’t do anything, because right now he couldn’t even make eye contact with the woman without wanting to cry. Why couldn’t anything _go_ right?

But when the bell above the door _dinged_ in the way it always did, Aziraphale realized it could still get worse. He shifted his gaze and tensed harder. It could get much, much worse.

Crowley, _his_ Crowley (no, not his Crowley, just Crowley), stood in front of the door, somehow dry despite the weather. His eyes darted around the shop, most likely trying to find the principality who was quaking only a few feet away. Lucky for the angel, he spotted the woman with the long nails first. He rolled his eyes and flipped the sign on the door to _Closed_ before sauntering over to her in the way he always did.

“Hey.”

The woman looked up at Crowley, a barely dusted tomb half off the shelf and half in her hand. She quickly put it back, however, as the demon leaned down to eye level with her.

“Get out.”

Aziraphale watched as the woman nodded and practically ran out the door, letting the bell ring once more before the shop fell into silence, only the sound of rain pounding outside penetrating the tension in the bookshop.

Crowley’s forked tongue darted out quickly as he began walking up and around the aisles and aisles of books.

“Angel? Angel, she’s gone. Stop sulking in the corner and get out here.”

Aziraphale could feel Crowley coming closer, but he was still feeling so Little. He was still so overwhelmed that he wanted to cry, to let Crowley hold him—

_No, no! Stop that right now._

“Angel?”

Aziraphale practically jumped out of his corporation at the sound of Crowley’s voice being so close to him. He turned and stared up at the demon, who was currently looking down at him, smirking.

“What, you were waiting that customer out back here? Should’ve just told her off, angel.”

Aziraphale gathered up as much of himself as he could before he spoke. “Precisely, I’m angel. There’s no need to be rude. And it’s pouring out there. I couldn’t just send her out.”

Aziraphale could hear the sarcasm dripping from Crowley’s words as he spun around and began walking towards the shop’s back room.

“Yeah right, Angel. You don’t mind a bit of sin when it comes to your books.”

“I most certainly do!” Aziraphale pitch began traveling higher, and he tried to calm down, “I mean, I most certainly do not advocate for sin, even when my books are involved. You know that.”

Crowley’s teasing look held no heat, a fond smile moving over his features instead. “Yeah, right angel. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I most certainly will.” Aziraphale’s bottom lip threated to jut out, aching to pout.

Crowley flopped onto the couch, his limbs flowing like water into all of the familiar dips he had created over the many, many nights of drinking in that very spot. “So, angel, still on for lunch? Since you’ve closed up early and everything.”

Aziraphale sighed happily. Lunch. Yes, he could do lunch. “Of course, my dear. Let me just—”

_Ring ring!_

Aziraphale paused at first, confused. Who would be calling him in the middle of the day? He didn’t realize who was on the other end of the phone call until Crowley picked it up.

“_Crowley_! Don’t answer my phone!”

Crowley ignored Aziraphale in favor of talking to the man on the phone “Yeah, what do you want?” There was a pause, and then, “What?”

Aziraphale marched over and snatched the phone from the demon and began to walk away as far as the cord would let him “Yes, ah, Danny, of course. Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. Yes, yes of course, I’ll be over in a jiffy. Thank you!”

Aziraphale went and placed the old phone back into its normal place, and sighed. He looked up at Crowley, who was peering down at him.

“What kind of book was that, angel?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale stammered, “A-a very rare one, indeed. Something on, um, uh, childrearing from the 1600s. Very, very hard to find. I simply must go and get it right away.”

A hand on his chest stopped him from making a step forward.

“You’re not going alone, are you?”

“Well, of course, I am, I always go alone!”

“Yes, but this time you have lunch plans. Here, let me drive you. Then we can go to that little Italian place with the homemade whatever.”

“Homemade _pasta_, Crowley, it’s not that hard to remember, and—”

“What, you’re embarrassed to introduce me to your bookseller friend?” And without time for the angel to respond, Crowley snatched up Aziraphale’s hand, smirking as he dragged him out to the Bentley. “C’mon, angel! It’s an adventure!”

Aziraphale shivered, feeling the effects of the one pill already starting to seep out of him. _Yes, an adventure indeed._


	2. Divine Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tries to cheer Aziraphale up the only way he knows how: baked goods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow! What!?! There are so many of you!! That commented!! And left kudos!! Yay!! I'm so happy that so many people are enjoying this story, even though it just begun!
> 
> Also, this was originally one chapter, but I had to split it in two because it was getting to be over 2000 words... And I'm still not done... So I'll post the second half soon! I want to try and get myself on a schedule so I don't post like three times one week and then none the next.
> 
> Stay tuned! Also I love you!

Even when Big, Aziraphale did not like driving with Crowley. Being Little, however, made the experience ten times worse.

It was taking all of Aziraphale’s concentration to control his Little side, his knuckles turning white as they held onto the grab handle above him. He looked more uncomfortable then he ever had in the Bentley.

Crowley could tell. He knew he could tell, and that just served to make Aziraphale more anxious. 

_ Does he know? Can he tell? I’m not that obvious, am I? _

Aziraphale closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything else, taking large, deep breaths as he did so.

“I’m only going 80 Angel, you’re getting weak,” Crowley attempted to look annoyed, but when Aziraphale opened his eyes and saw his friend’s eyebrows furrowed in a way that let his concern slip through.

“Perhaps I am, dear boy,” Aziraphale flinched slightly at his word choice, but pressed on, “Have you gotten anything that isn’t be-bop since the last time I’ve been in here?”

“You mean since yesterday? No, Angel, I haven’t,” Crowley smiled, his concern fading away, “Just let the Bentley pick something, she’s got a mind of her own sometimes.”

“The Bentley is a female?” Aziraphale felt himself relax as the pair of them returned to their usual banter.

“Eh, depends on the day,” Crowley said as he ducked his head down quickly to grab a stray CD from underneath his seat, narrowly avoiding several car crashes.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale knew he sounded ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but scream. He could feel himself leak slightly, and pushed himself forward, resting his arms on his lap, trying to stop himself from fully loosing control.

But Crowley just laughed as he pushed the CD in, “What, don’t trust me?”

Aziraphale could only manage out a grumble as music began to filter through the speakers.

_ “I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things,  _

_ We can do the tango just for two” _

Aziraphale felt himself relax, thankful for the softer melody. He slowly stretched himself back, keeping an eye out for any wet patches that may be evident. 

_ “I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings,” _

Thankfully, nothing could be seen.

_ “Be your Valentino just for you.” _

Aziraphale looked back at Crowley and noticed that his face was now flushed slightly red. But, why--

_ “Ooh love, ooh loverboy, _

_ What’re you doing tonight, hey boy.” _

_ Oh, really? _ Aziraphale now felt his own face heating up. It was a love song. More specifically, it had the word  _ boy _ in it, and that shouldn’t matter but  _ does _ , and now Aziraphale was back to worrying. 

_ “Set my alarm, turn on my charm _

_ That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy” _

The happy tune smashed roughly into the wall of awkwardness that the two entities had created between themselves. If the Bentley had a face, she’d be giggling right now.

Thankfully for the other two, they had finally arrived at the “bookshop,” as Aziraphale kept putting it. It looked more like an apartment than a bookshop, but hopefully Crowley wouldn’t notice.

_ “Hey boy, where did yo--” _

Aziraphale turned as he opened his own door to see Crowley turning off the engine.

“Crowley... Um... Would you mind waiting in the car?”

But Crowley just raised an eyebrow and got out of his seat anyway.

“Why, Angel? Embarrassed that a demon drove you to your friend’s house?”

“What? No,” Aziraphale got out quickly, stopping the demon before he could get on the sidewalk, “It’s just, this particular seller is very private, and--”

“And you’re going to take forever, and I know you’re hungry, and then you’ll be all moody.”

“I am not  _ moody _ !” Aziraphale stomped his foot to emphasize his statement, and felt his lower lip jutting out. He tried his best to compose himself, straightening up even more than usual.

“I will be going in alone. And I won’t be long. Just... Wait here.” Aziraphale spoke slowly, trying to get a read of Crowley’s face. The sunglasses made it hard on a good day, but now he couldn’t tell what he was feeling. What Crowley upset with him? Annoyed? Would he laugh at him?

Instead of sticking around to find out, Aziraphale just turned around and quickly headed into the building, bypassing the front desk altogether and almost running to the apartment.

***

Crowley stood on the sidewalk, confused. Something was wrong with his Angel.

_ No, not your angel, just an Angel. An Angel you’re friends with. And that’s all. _

Crowley groaned and headed back into the Bentley, slamming the door a little too much behind him. Ever since Armageddon was stopped not too long ago, Aziraphale had been jumpier. Not too much, but it was still noticeable. And, today...

Maybe it was that woman in the bookshop earlier. She must’ve caught Aziraphale off-guard today, and once he got his new book he’d be all better. 

Hopefully.

Crowley hit his head against the back of his seat, already bored. The whole reason he drove here was to spend  _ more _ time with Aziraphale, not to sit and wait for him. And while he hoped that his Angel would be a little happier when he got back, he wouldn’t be better until lunchtime.

Suddenly, an idea popped inside the demon’s head, and Crowley grinned as he started the Bentley back up again, speeding down the road. He knew that one of Aziraphale’s many (many, many,  _ many _ ), favorite bakeries were in this area of London, and a few sweets from there would perk him right up. Nothing made the Angel happier than a handful of sweets.

Crowley couldn’t help but smile to himself as he imagined the Angel’s face when he got back. His eyebrows would shoot up, and his mouth would turn into a little “o” shape, and then he’d start glowing. Actually glowing, because not only was he adorable, he was an adorable  _ celestial being _ .

_ A celestial being as old as you,  _ Crowley reminded himself. He couldn’t go around calling Aziraphale “adorable” or “cute,” no matter how much he wanted to. If he started doing that, then he’d end up smiling fondly at him, or something else equally ridiculous.

Spoiling his ( _ the, not his, the, Crowley get it right _ ) Angel was the closest he could get to taking care of him. Not that he needed it, since Aziraphale himself was a Caregiver. Except, Crowley was too.

If Crowley was a normal demon, he’d be a Baseline. At least a Caregiver and a Baseline could almost work out; sure, it’s not perfect, but it’s better than two Caregivers. Even if Crowley wanted to try, he knew that Aziraphale would never. It was already hard enough to get him to think of Crowley as a friend, but he couldn’t change his views on the classification system. That was innate.

Crowley quickly cut someone off, stealing the one open spot in front of  _ Divine Sweets _ . He felt a brief moment of smugness, but soon his thoughts drifted back to Aziraphale.

Part of him will sometimes think that Aziraphale is actually a Baseline. Not often, but sometimes he’ll do something that sparks it; a little  _ ‘What if?’  _ poking him in the back of his brain. The most surprising was during their scheming session for the Dowlings. Crowley wanted badly to be the boy’s Nanny, knowing that it’d be the closest he ever got to having a Little, but stated instead that “ _ You’re gonna be the Nanny, right Angel? So I guess I’ll be the Gardener. Teach the Antichrist how to yell at plants, you know. The usual. _ ”

But, to his shock, the Angel quickly dismissed him, saying that “ _ I can’t have you doing that to the poor plants. I’ll be the Gardener, you can be the Nanny. If that’s alright with you, dear? _ ”

Crowley’s thoughts were interrupted by a small woman on the other side of the counter. She smiled brightly, the curls on her head getting in front of her face. Her plump frame reminded him of Aziraphale, but she had darker skin and much, much more hair.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“I’m just looking to get some stuff for a friend.”

“Oh, what’s the occasion?”

Crowley shrugged, saying, “Nothing much. Just gonna cheer him up.”

The woman, whose name was most likely Julia, according to her nametag, clasped her hands together, “Oh, that’s wonderful! What does he like?”

Crowley snorted at that, “Everything. He likes everything.”

“Hmmm...” Julia looked around, finally picking up a large box, “Would you like to just do a mix of a few different things?”

“That... Would be perfect, actually.”

“Awesome!”

Julia helped Crowley pick out some of the most popular items the shop sold, eventually filling the box with five different types of cookies, four kinds of tiny cupcakes, a dozen chocolate-dipped strawberries, and two sweet rolls, which Crowley remembered Aziraphale ordering the last time they came.

“You have room for one more thing. What do you want?”

Crowley looked through the glass at all the treats once more, trying to find one more thing. Finally, he noticed a small collection of cakes, one of which was decorated like a rabbit. He thought back to the horrendous magic show Aziraphale tried to put on not too long ago and snorted. His tricks might be horrendous, but he could admit to himself (and  _ only _ himself) that he enjoyed watching it, if only because it was hilarious to see an  _ actual _ angel fail with a simple coin trick.

“I’ll take this... Rabbit cake,” Crowley said, pointing to it through the glass.

“Oh, yes, that carrot cake is very popular. We do custom ones as well, if you’re interested,” Julia continued to talk at a rapid speed as she rang everything up, “Especially if you know of any Littles. It’s their most-bought item, actually.”

  
Crowley quirked an eyebrow, but ended up shrugging it off. Hopefully Aziraphale still liked it. A quick glance at the clock, however, showed that Crowley had been in here for almost twenty minutes, meaning that there was a  _ very _ angry angel waiting in front of that apartment building. Crowley hoped that the sweets would suffice as an apology.


	3. Where's Danny?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has a hard time getting the suppressants he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! You're all amazing!! Literally, every single one of your comments and kudos' makes my ENTIRE day better! I love you all!!! <3

Aziraphale hurried up to the fourth floor, feeling out of breath. Gabriel’s words about his corporation rang through his head, but he didn’t have time to dwell on them. If he took too long, Crowley would come looking for him, and then what? Watch the love of his life laugh in his face? He couldn’t risk it.

After double-checking the note he’d written, Aziraphale found himself standing in front of 4F. He hoped that it was actually 4F, and not 4E, because that’s a very easy mistake to make, but there wasn’t any time to waste. The angel knocked quickly on the door, hoping that the man, Danny, was home. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could get back in that car without at least one pill.

The door opened quickly, catching Aziraphale off-guard. A man roughly his height stood in the doorway, looking him up and down.

“You’re the baby?” He sounded confused, cocking his head as he did so.

“I--” Aziraphale cleared his throat, feeling himself shrink at the man’s harsh stare, “I am the Little, yes. You’re Danny, I presume?”

The man laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, Danny’s not here. He said you’d be stopping by though. C’mon.”

“Wait,” Aziraphale couldn’t believe this was happening, “Who are you, then?”

“The name’s Landon. Why are you wearing a suit?”

“I--”

“I thought Littles wore onesies. I expected that you’d be in a onesie,” Landon chuckled.

Aziraphale couldn’t stop his face from heating up as the man laughed at him. He could feel himself getting younger and younger during this conversation, and he didn’t want to think about what would happen if he stayed too long.

“I like suits.” Aziraphale managed to get the sentence out without any interruptions.

“I guess if I passed you on the street, I wouldn't be able to tell.” Landon began walking around Aziraphale, not unlike a lion with its prey. The angel pressed his legs together, trying to keep himself under control. Even if he couldn’t see the strange man, he could feel his gaze on him.

“I can’t even tell if you’re wearing a diaper or not,” Aziraphale turned quickly to see Landon bent down a bit, looking at his crotch area, “Are you?”

Aziraphale couldn’t take much more of this. He felt like his face was on fire, “No.”

“I hope that means you’ve got bladder control. Danny promised me I wouldn’t have to clean up any piss.”

If Aziraphale was of a more sound mind, he would’ve been able to clear his bladder with a thought. But being so Little, all he could do was shy away from Landon.

“Could... You get the pills, now?” Aziraphale tried to look away, but the man just got closer to him.

“I will. In a minute. I’ve never gotten to talk to a Little before.”

“Um... Well, do you have any questions?” Anything to get the suppressants and get out of this apartment.

“Yeah, what do the pills do?”

“Uh, well, they stop the hormones from coming out. Sort of like a plug.”

“So, when you take them, you’re a regular adult?”

“Yes.”

“Weird,” Landon then grinned in a way that unnerved Aziraphale, whispering, “What happens if you get scared?”

_ Is this punishment for stopping Armageddon? Is Gabriel hiding somewhere ready to laugh at me?  _ But before Aziraphale could answer, Landon continued.

“Like horror movies and stuff. People coming out of nowhere, jumping up behind you and scaring the crap out of you.” Landon laughed again. “Probably literally for you.”

Aziraphale cringed, “I don’t like horror movies.”

“Well, obviously. You’re a baby. You don’t know what you’re missing, though.”

Landon waited for a reaction, but when the angel stayed silent, he shrugged and walked towards the bedroom.

Once he left, Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. Looking down at his hands, he noticed a faint tremble rocking through them. There was one way to quickly calm himself down, but it would be risky.

Aziraphale looked towards the bedroom door, and seeing no Landon, he placed a thumb in his mouth, closing his eyes as calmness flowed through him. For the first time today, Aziraphale finally felt okay.

Aziraphale became so engrossed that he didn’t notice Landon re-enter the room. The man, holding a bottle of pills, stood still, before breaking out into a wide grin and beginning to slowly sneak up behind Aziraphale, keeping his laughter to himself. Landon was able to get himself right up behind Aziraphale before screaming in his ear.

If Landon had ever been around a Little before, he would have known that scaring one was quite possibly the worst thing you could do. Aziraphale’s eyes flew open, his mouth biting down hard on his thumb, making him yelp in both pain and fear. The angel’s body began to go into overdrive, and he couldn’t control any of it anymore. All at once, Aziraphale felt tears fall down his face, his throat close up, and worst of all, his bladder give out, causing a rush of liquid to escape. Landon jumped back as he saw the liquid quickly stream down the angel’s light slacks and puddle on the floor below.

“What the fuck!? What are you doing?” Landon screamed, but Aziraphale couldn’t hear him. He had been on his suppressants for so long now that he hadn’t been in Little mode in a very,  _ very _ long time. It had been an even longer time for him to enter a full meltdown like this. A small part of him tried to remind himself that he was an angel and that he could stop all of this, but it was drowned out by the rush of emotions overcoming him.

Landon threw the small bottle of pills and grabbed Aziraphale by his jacket sleeve, dragging him towards the door. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker, he said you wouldn’t piss on my floors! I should make you clean all this up, you little freak!”

But instead of that, Landon opened the door and shoved the angel out. Aziraphale began gasping for air, trying to calm himself down. He needed to calm down.

Once his breath steadied, the angel looked down at the mess he’d made. He cringed, the smell of urine hitting his senses sharply. His pants legs were soaked through, leaving his socks and shoes wet as well. There seemed to be a trail leading outside the apartment, meaning that he hadn’t stopped until Landon had pushed him out. Aziraphale couldn’t go outside, not like this. Not now. He needed somewhere to take one of the pills, to wait for the effects to take place.

Aziraphale looked down at the bottle for the first time and noticed that there were only a handful of pills; certainly not enough to last more than a week, following proper dosages. Tears began to well in the angel’s eyes once more, but they were blinked back quickly. He didn’t have time to keep crying, that could happen later.

Aziraphale quickly loosened the cap and attempted to dry-swallow a pill, only to cough it back up. He needed water, or this wasn’t going down. A small, disposable cup full of water was quickly miracled into existence, and the angel made quick use of it, finally getting the damned pill down.

With another quick miracle, the previously drenched slacks returned to their normal tan coloring, the smell dissipating along with it. However, Aziraphale couldn’t shake the sense of shame that still surrounded him. How could he face Crowley after this? Surely the demon wouldn’t know, but Aziraphale would.

He needed to calm down. Aziraphale went to the top of the steps and sat himself down, taking a breath as he did so. The angel knew he could suck his thumb again to relax, but after the encounter with Landon, he was too scared to try in public.

Instead, Aziraphale rested his hand against the brick wall and willed himself to be Big.  _ Just for a little while. Just long enough for the ride back to the bookshop. _

Finally, he could feel the suppressant beginning to work, which gave the angel some much-needed control, but it soon became clouded by guilt and shame. Aziraphale pushed it away for now and began to descend back down the stairs, his senses on high alert. 

As Aziraphale slipped out of the building, unnoticed once more, he stared at the blank parking space that once held the Bentley not too long ago. Looking up and down the street, there was no sight of her anywhere, and no demon either.

_ Oh no,  _ Aziraphale thought to himself, terror coursing through his corporation,  _ He knows. I don’t know how he knows, but surely he must. Otherwise, why would he leave? _

Before he could work himself up into a state again, however, a loud screeching caught his attention. Turning the corner was the Bentley herself, blaring an incredibly loud song that Aziraphale had probably heard by now, but couldn't recognize. 

And there was Crowley, somehow speeding into the tiny parking space only a few feet from Aziraphale. He didn’t register what the demon was saying until he shouted, “Aziraphale!”

“Ah!” Aziraphale grasped his chest, glad for once that he’d already been scared that day. “What?”

“Where’s your book?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he realized that he had nothing to show from his trip besides a tiny orange bottle and a very angry man.

“I, uh... Oh! It wasn’t real.”

“Wasn’t real?” Crowley peered at him, unconvinced.

_ That’s not technically a lie, at least, _ Aziraphale thought.

“Yes! He had no book at all. I had to have a very stern talking to with him. It’s not very nice to trick people to come to your house.”

_ Okay, that was a lie. _

But Crowley just laughed, “I would’ve paid to see that, Angel. But, really? A stern talking to? You’re an angel, you could’ve just popped him somewhere else. That would’ve taught him a lesson.”

For the first time in a long time, Aziraphale laughed aloud, almost startling himself. “No, my dear, that would be cruel. A stern talking to was just what the man needed.”

“Well, Angel, even though you don’t have a book, you can’t leave empty-handed.”

“Oh, no?” It was now Aziraphale’s turn to look confused. But it soon turned into shock as a box appeared in Crowley’s hands. The words  _ Divine Sweets _ could be read on the top of the box.

“Oh, Divine Sweets! Crowley, you didn’t, did you?” Aziraphale knew he looked ridiculous right now, he had that silly look of surprise on his face, but he couldn’t stop it.

Crowley, bless him (not literally, of course), just grinned and opened the box, revealing a collection of baked goods and chocolate-covered fruits, each more beautiful looking than the next. On top of all of them sat a tiny cake with a picture of a rabbit. Aziraphale knew he was glowing, but could not get it to stop if he tried. Instead, he picked up the small cake, almost reverently, staring at its adorable design.

“... A rabbit?”

“Yeah. Do you like it?” Aziraphale finally looked up at Crowley, noticing that he looked almost nervous. Which, of course, made no sense.

“It’s perfect, Crowley.” And oh, Aziraphale may be glowing, but the small smile Crowley shared with him struck his heart hard. Maybe if Aziraphale was a normal angel, he’d be able to be with Crowley. A Baseline and a Caregiver weren’t perfect, but it was better than a Baseline and a Little. Aziraphale could never do that to him. But, he could have these little moments.

***

Crowley knew he had to keep his eyes on the road, but couldn’t help sneaking the occasional glance to the angel on his left. The box of sweets sat carefully on Aziraphale’s lap, and he was eating slowly and carefully above it, taking care not to get any crumbs on the seats.

Crowley wished he could sit and watch Aziraphale all day; while he read, while he ate, while he took his occasional nap. It was foolish, however, for a demon to dream.

But, he could have these little moments.


	4. There Were Angels Getting Blackout at the Ritz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley drags Aziraphale out to the Ritz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I  
AM  
SO  
SORRY!!  
I MOVED AND THEN I FORGOT ABOUT THIS AND THEN THIS CHAPTER WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO WRITE  
AND I CAN'T TRY EDITING IT BECAUSE THEN IT'LL TAKE FOREVER AGAIN
> 
> PLEASE ENJOY
> 
> I'M SO SORRY AGAIN
> 
> (also look at the word count)
> 
> AHHHHHHHHHH

It’s been exactly eight days since the Landon Incident, and Aziraphale has yet to leave the bookshop. A small sign has been placed on the door, stating that they were “closed for renovations until further notice”. Further notice, of course, being whenever Aziraphale could find more suppressants. Until then, the handful of pills he _did_ have were to be kept for emergencies only.

Aziraphale didn’t mind being alone, but one particular demon kept. _Calling_. Him. Having to lie to Crowley was difficult by itself, but being Little on top of it? Aziraphale couldn’t believe that the demon hadn’t noticed yet*.

[*= Crowley, like Aziraphale, is about as thick as God is Ineffable]

This particular night, Aziraphale was upstairs getting ready for bed--his ability to stay awake for weeks and months at a time diminished in his Little state--when the old phone on his desk back downstairs began to ring. While he had an idea of who it’d be, Aziraphale couldn’t risk missing a call from a contact. So, the angel headed downstairs begrudgingly, a small, worn leather book cradled against his chest (toys and blankets would be too obvious, so Aziraphale held onto books with particularly soft covers, finding comfort in the old grooves created from endless nights alone).

“Angel!”

As soon as Aziraphale picked up the phone, Crowley began shouting, irritating him even more.

“Yes, Crowley?”

Crowley either didn’t notice Aziraphale’s tone, or he chose to ignore it, “Angel! Where’ve you been? Do you want to get dinner?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, trying to keep his composure, “It’s ten-thirty at night, and I was planning on sleeping. I’m already in my ja--nightclothes.”

As Crowley began giggling--_actually_ giggling--Aziraphale realized that the demon was drunk. _Very _drunk.

“Your what?”

Sighing again, Aziraphale asked coolly, “Did you have anything else to ask, Crowley?”

A pause. The sound of liquids being poured into a container of some sort could be heard, making the angel twitch.

“Can I come ooooooover, Angel,” Crowley drawled, “pleassssssssse?”

This was a conversation that had happened several times in the past eight days, and Aziraphale was reaching his limit.

“Crowley! I am tired, please let me go to bed!” Aziraphale didn’t notice his voice rising in pitch, too concerned with just making it through the phone call.

“Ugh, fiiiiine,” Crowley slurred, not realizing how right he was, “Tomorrow, then? I’ll take you to the Ritzzzzzzzzzz, Angel.”

“Yes, okay, fine,” Aziraphale’s eyes popped open, but before he could recant his statement--

“Aw, yes! Okay, okay Angel, I’ll pick you up at seven. Now, go to sleep.” And just like that, Crowley hung up, leaving a frazzled Aziraphale standing in his bookshop.

“Oh.”

“_Fuck_.”

***

The honking of the Bentley brought Aziraphale out of his book, and he hurried to grab his coat and head outside. The three suppressants that he’d taken had finally settled in, and everything felt normal again. There was a slight nagging feeling in his stomach, warning him that taking a higher dosage than normal might not be a good idea, but it was easily ignored.

One normal night, and then he could hide away again for a few weeks. By then, he should have a steady supply back. And then everything would be okay again.

Sitting in the passenger seat, feeling the racing of the Bentley, the blasting of the music, and the enduringly off-key singing from Crowley made Aziraphale smile. He was still convinced that they were going to hit someone, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as before.

Soon enough, the two were strolling into the Ritz, their favorite table _miraculously_ free. _It’s nice_, Aziraphale thought, _it’s nice to do something normal_.

And Aziraphale didn’t seem to be the only one thinking that. While he was going over the merits of each special, he noticed a small, but genuine smile on Crowley’s face.

Of course, that wasn’t all he noticed.

Just a few tables away, easy to spot from his seat, was a Little. She wore a plastic tiara on top of her head, her curly brown hair put up into what Aziraphale knew to be _space buns_ (not that the term made any sense). Her dress resembled a Halloween costume more than anything else, the bright pink and the sparkles almost harsh to the eyes.

To her left was what was most likely her Caregiver, if the fond look in the woman’s eyes was anything to go by. Her hair had a few grey streaks, and her face was decorated in laugh lines, made even more prominent by the smile she wore as she cut the Little’s food into bite-sized pieces.

Aziraphale tried to keep his eyes on Crowley, but the scene was just _so_ heartwarming. Most Littles, when out and about, were usually in parks, or stores, or some other sort of Little-focused area. And most seemed to be on the younger side, while this couple looked more around the ages of Aziraphale and Crowley’s corporations. It sparked something in the angel--a _what if_\--but he quickly pushed it back down, focusing instead on the Ballotine of Duck Liver that had just set down in front of him, which wasn’t very hard at all.

The dinner passed normally from there, the rest of the courses following in quick succession, each one paired with some sort of ridiculous exchange or another with the demon across from him. 

But, as the dessert—a delectable Prune and Armagnac Souffle, with just the right amount of sugar sifted over it—was being served, a quiet muttering brought Aziraphale’s attention back towards the Little and Caregiver only a few meters away.

“Lolly, is the bathroom free yet?”

The Caregiver was twisting herself away from her Little, staring in the direction of the restrooms. A quick glance showed several women waiting by the female restroom. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but it doesn’t look like it. Can you hold it just a little longer?”

The space buns on the girl’s head came loose as she began rocking more and more in her chair. “I don’t think so!”

Aziraphale froze, watching the Little tense up, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. The scene was all too familiar to the angel, and

Crowley finally noticed Aziraphale’s wandering eyes and turned around to see the Little crying softly into her Caregiver’s chest. The harsh scent of urine was beginning to travel towards the other restaurant patrons, many of them wrinkling their noses in disgust. A waiter quickly went up to the couple and rushed them into the back, the Little’s pee-soaked shoes squishing into the carpet below.

Aziraphale finally dragged his attention back to Crowley, who was staring at the workers, already cleaning up the quite mess left behind. His expression was one of pity, which somehow made the angel feel even worse.

The souffle sat before him, looking dry and crumbly, and tasting like nothing at all. Aziraphale forced it down his throat, anyway, needing something to do to distract himself.

“Anything else you want, angel?” He met Crowley’s eyes again, which was a mistake. Quickly grabbing his wine glass for yet another distraction, an idea was thought of. One that Aziraphale believed to be the best one of the night.

He was right, but not in the way he thought.

“Alcohol,” Aziraphale flagged down the closest waiter, ready to order, “Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol.”

***

Crowley woke up to his head pounding, the harshness of the hardwood floors mixing with his already-prominent hangover. Sitting up, the demon looked around, trying to figure out what had happened the night before.

There were eight bottles of wine, four handles of whiskey, and several cans littered around what seemed to be the bookshop’s backroom. Crowley shrugged his shoulders and snapped his fingers, quickly getting rid of his massive headache.

Without the constant pressure distracting him, Crowley was finally able to notice the whimpering sounds coming from the couch directly next to him. Lying there was an angel, _his_ angel, curled up with his back facing the demon.

Crowley jumped up, trying to wake Aziraphale and see what was wrong. What he wasn’t expecting was the angel to be _sucking his thumb_. If it wasn’t for the fact that his friend was in obvious pain, Crowley might have melted from the cuteness.

“Angel?” Crowley whispered softly, gently shaking the angel’s shoulder. But there was no response.

“Ang—” It was then that Crowley noticed something else; the angel was _wet_. The seat of his pants was darkened, a large wet stain underneath him on the couch. Crowley’s mind started whirring, wondering _is he-_-

“Oh, Angel.”

Aziraphale was quickly picked up, twisting in the demon’s arms before relaxing into them. Crowley shushed him and headed upstairs to the small flat above the bookshop.

Luckily, Aziraphale was enough of a hedonist to have a large bed covered in pillows (and books, but those were sent away to a bookshelf on the side that did not exist moments beforehand), as well as a fully functional bathroom attached to the bedroom.

“Angel…” Crowley stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, looking down at Aziraphale’s face. The angel’s whimpering had gone down considerably, but he hadn’t opened his eyes, “Angel, you need a bath.”

Aziraphale didn’t agree with this, but he also didn’t deny the demon. Crowley took this as the okay to plop the angel onto the toilet seat, and he began to carefully strip the many layers off of the sleepy being.

“Is this okay?” Aziraphale made no movement to confirm or deny this, so Crowley continued to disrobe the angel.

Soon, he was naked, and Crowley snapped his fingers, summoning a full bath, complete with bubbles and two rubber ducks floating on the surface. He checked the temperature (he knew it was perfect, but one could never be too careful), and then slowly moved the angel from the toilet seat into the bath.

Crowley felt like he was in a dream, working shampoo gently into the white-blonde curls onto the angel’s head.

_Aziraphale is a Little. _He felt giddy with the thought.

Soon, the angel was clean and wrapped up in a fluffy, light blue towel. An almost invisible smile ghosted onto Aziraphale’s face, making Crowley’s heart skip a beat.

_Adorable_, Crowley couldn’t help but think.

After putting the angel in a diaper and a onesie, he was slowly tucked into bed, the small, pale face almost covered by pillows (_so_ many pillows, nobody needs that many, but it’s okay, it’s Aziraphale) gently kissed by the demon.

The light was flipped off, and Crowley headed back downstairs, determined to clean up a bit and very much so _not_ explode from all of his dreams coming true. Meanwhile, a properly cared-for Little was once again sucking his thumb, dreaming of nothing but warmth and love.


End file.
